


I Am Here for You

by Thanatopsiturvy



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Precious Mormon Boys, Self-Hatred, Spooky Mormon Hell Dream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 10:04:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2617847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thanatopsiturvy/pseuds/Thanatopsiturvy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He should be used to this by now. The dreams. It was like this every night. Ever since fifth grade."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Am Here for You

**Author's Note:**

> Aaahhahahaha Book of Mormon fanfiction. Fuck yes!  
> Finally got a chance to see it live and was immediately inspired to jump right into the fray and try my hand at a short story.
> 
> Also, I kind of jumped on the bandwagon of "Connor" being Elder McKinley's first name. I dunno, I just like the way it sounds. _Connor McKinley._ Rolls off the tongue. 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

Connor sat bolt up right in bed, sweat trickling down his neck as he choked back the scream that threatened to rip its way out of his throat. His heart thrummed against his ribcage as he gasped for air. His eyes darted wildly around the room, taking in his surroundings. _Still in Uganda. Still alive._ Swallowing thickly, he raised a shaky hand to push his damp hair from his forehead before slowly laying back down to stare blankly at the ceiling. He spent the next few minutes willing his breath to return to normal. 

He should be used to this by now. The dreams. It was like this every night. Ever since fifth grade. 

The rickety wooden fan spun in lazy loops on the ceiling above him, barely giving off any wind. Ugandan nights were hot and sticky, leaving him constantly feeling in need of a shower. A deep scowl crept its way across his usually soft features. He hated this place. He hated it as much as a Mormon could hate anything. Yet here he was, still baking under the hot African sun. 

And why? 

A face swam into view, lingering in his mind’s eye somewhere just past the steady rotation of the fan. He screwed his eyes shut. _Not again._ He grabbed his thin pillow and wrapped it around his ears as if to block out the oncoming thoughts. One name managed to make it through the scratchy, cotton pillowcase. 

Kevin Price.

Connor exhaled slowly, letting his eyes relax. _Kevin._ Sweet, understanding Kevin. The only person to ever tell him that it was okay. That he was okay. _He_ was okay. And that’s the whole reason he was still stuck in this Heavenly Father-forsaken country wasn’t it? Because Elder Price was still here. Gosh darn Elder Price. 

Connor flipped violently onto his side, huffing into the thin sheets that lined his cot. If he concentrated hard enough, he could still feel the other man’s hands on his face. Sure, it was for one, brief moment, but the red-hot burn of his touch lasted for hours afterwards. Despite himself, a small smile managed to creep across his face. Sure, Elder Price had been in a panic and covered in blood, but it still felt special. Yeah. Special. Very special.

Connor’s eyes snapped open.  
“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” he chanted in a frantic whisper, shoving a hand between his legs.  
“Bad, bad, stop it, stop it! Turn it off!” he felt tears brimming in the corners of his eyes as he palmed his growing erection. He tried to recite as many verses from the Book of Mormon as he could, squeezing his eyes shut. He managed to make it through the first chapter of the book of Jacob before he felt the fires finally begin to die. Heaving a weary sigh, he grappled for his watch that lay tucked in his shoe by the head of his cot. The small, round face lit up green with the press of a button, showing it to be around 3am. _The witching hour_ , a small voice piped up. Exhaling loudly once more, he shifted and got out of bed, shuffling noiselessly across the warped wooden floors of his bunk room. The other cot lay empty, his mission companion having left for Salt Lake City as soon as he got the chance. A few of the other missionaries had stayed, but Connor wasn’t sure how long they’d last. 

He made his way silently out of the building to the small covered porch at the front of the building. To his surprise and mild comfort, somebody else was also awake.  
“Hey, brother, what brings you out here?” he asked quietly with a smile. His face paled as Kevin turned around to greet him.  
“Oh, Elder McKinley. I didn’t think anyone else would be up at this hour…” he admitted with a bashful smile that made Connor’s stomach do summersaults.  
“Ah, well…” he laughed nervously. “Sometimes you just can’t sleep, you know? It’s so hot in that room, and the blankets are kind of itchy, plus sometimes…”  
“It’s the dream, isn’t it?” Kevin interrupted.  
“W-what?” Connor felt his face and hands go cold as his heart leapt into his throat.  
“You said you have them every night,” Kevin explained, face neutral.  
“Did I?” Connor laughed, but his voice sounded high-pitched and desperate.  
“It’s okay. I have them too, you know. After all of this…” He turned away to stare out across the moonlit desert landscape, leaning against the rickety porch railing.  
“Is that why you’re out here?” Connor ventured to ask, stepping tentatively closer to Kevin. A curt nod was all he got as a response before a long stretch of silence. 

“I just don’t know what I believe anymore…” Kevin confessed with a whooshing exhale. Connor gulped.  
“You mean… like, you don’t believe in Heavenly Father?”  
“No, no…” Kevin shook his head. “I mean, I had my moments of doubt, sure, but I definitely believe in Heavenly Father. I… I just don’t think that He’s exactly what we’ve been told He is. Does that make sense? Probably not…” Kevin laughed depreciatively, rubbing the back of his neck and casting a glance over his shoulder at Connor.  
“No!” Connor answered almost too enthusiastically. “I mean, it’s…” he wasn’t sure what to say exactly. Was this too blasphemous? If this conversation wasn’t, the feelings rampaging through his body certainly were. He bit his tongue, unable to continue his sentence. 

“I guess what I mean is… what the Church tells me and what I believe is right don’t really add up,” Kevin continued, taking a few steps towards him. “Like Elder Cunn… Arnold helping out the Ugandans by telling them what they needed to hear, not what we thought they should hear. And then there’s you, too. I just can’t understand why Heavenly Father would condemn you to Hell just for having feelings that you can’t really control. You know?” 

Connor felt the bottom drop out of his stomach.  
“I am an abomination…” he stated lowly, mimicking what he’d heard repeated to him nearly a hundred times by his family, his friends, and the Church. Kevin stepped up suddenly and took him by the shoulder and Connor nearly jumped out of his skin.  
“See! There’s no way Heavenly Father would think that! Look at all the good you’ve tried to do! I’ve seen how hard you work. You try so hard to be a good Mormon and follow the rules, and look where it’s gotten you! It’s not Heavenly Father that’s cursed you, it’s people!” His grip tightened and Connor let out a small, strangled noise.  
“Sorry,” Kevin apologized, his hands dropping to his side. “I just… get swept up sometimes.”  
“It’s…” Connor tried to slow his breathing. “It’s okay. I’m just…” He let out a long, shaky breath. 

“Yes, I’ve had my doubts, just like you,” Connor admitted, internally cringing at the primal fear he felt. “But you just have to have faith! Right? It’s all a part of His plan. Right?” He looked up into Kevin’s eyes, yearning for validation.  
“Right?” he asked again, more desperate. Kevin remained silent, looking at him with what could only be described as pity. 

Without warning, Connor’s vision went blurry with tears. With a barely constrained sob he fell forward against Kevin’s chest, entire body shaking as he cried. He felt Kevin stiffen in surprise but nearly immediately put his arms around him, cooing and shushing him with the skill of an older brother who had had plenty of experience in this field. Connor felt his entire body go hot with shame, but he couldn’t stop crying. It was like the dam finally burst.  
“You’re not an abomination,” Kevin assured into his hair, which only made Connor cry harder, twisting Kevin’s undershirt between his clenched fists. 

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there crying on the other boy, but as the sobs slowly evened out and the tears began to dry up, he felt overwhelmed with a serene exhaustion unlike any he’d ever felt before.  
“I’m tired,” he whispered against Kevin’s collarbone. He felt the other boy nod.  
“But do you feel better?” he asked, and Connor could feel the vibration of his words through his chest. He slowly released the thin fabric of Kevin’s shirt, arms falling heavily to his sides.  
“Yeah…” he sighed. He felt Kevin’s arms tighten around him one last time before letting go.  
“It’s Connor, right? Connor McKinley?” Kevin asked, and Connor felt a blush creep across his cheeks. Kevin hadn’t really been sure of his first name for a while. He nodded sheepishly, rubbing his eyes viciously. He was probably a year older than Kevin, but the other boy made him feel like a child all over again.  
“Let’s get you to bed, Connor.”

 

\-----

 

His late-night encounter with Kevin did little to quell the feelings Connor had towards his fellow missionary. If anything, they had gotten worse. Especially since he would catch Kevin’s eye from time-to-time over the next week and receive a soft, gentle smile in return. Kevin also appeared to have become slightly more protective of Conner, standing up for him several times against some of the jeers of the villagers. He even chastised Arnold for making fun of the way Connor walked. Connor was used to being made fun of for lots of things: being effeminate, his affinity for dance, having pink things; he had been that way his entire life, so the jeers started at an early age. Never, though, had anyone stood up for him. 

It was making things very complicated. 

Despite his best efforts, Connor found himself following Kevin everywhere. He couldn’t stop the complements that kept tumbling out of his mouth, either. Kevin seemed to take them with graciousness, but his eyes didn’t shine like they used to when he would be showered with praise. One day, as the two walked to the far market on behalf of Nabulungi, Connor brought it up.  
“Do you not like getting complements anymore?” he asked bluntly. Kevin gave him a thoughtful look out of the corner of his eye.  
“It’s not that I don’t like it, I just don’t really believe them anymore.”  
“But why? It’s not like they aren’t true!” Connor protested, earning a shrug from Kevin. They walked in silence for a moment before Kevin started speaking again.

“I was told I was special and blessed for almost my entire life, but I’m not.” He held up a finger to silence Connor before he could protest.  
“It’s true. I’m not special just because I try hard and do what I’m told. Following all the rules doesn’t make you special it just makes you obedient. People were praising me for being _obedient._ And there isn’t much for you to accomplish in this world if you’re just a good dog on a short leash…” 

Connor swallowed thickly.  
“That’s a heavy metaphor there, brother,” he laughed nervously, earning a bitter smile from Kevin.  
“I’ve done a lot of thinking over the past few weeks. A lot of thinking produces a lot of metaphors. Jesus spoke in metaphors and parables, you know.” They lapsed into silence once more, the crunch of the dirt beneath their feet the only sound passing between them.

“I think if you were actually a dog you’d be beagle. Those dogs are so precious,” Connor said at last. Kevin let out a startled laugh, then, to Connor’s surprise, kept laughing. He watched, mouth agape, as the corners of Kevin’s eyes crinkled with delight and his white teeth flashed in the midday sun. It was infectious. Connor felt his own amusement bubbling up in the pit of his stomach before overflowing as he joined in with his own high-pitched giggling. They stopped walking to laugh together, doubling over and attempting to compose themselves.  
“Yeah, well,” Kevin huffed, after finally catching his breath. “I think you’d be a Pomeranian.”  
“Hey! That’s mean!”  
“What? No it isn’t! They’re cute!” Kevin chuckled. Connor punched him playfully in the arm as they started to walk again. They proceeded to discuss which dog breed all the elders and villagers would be, laughing loudly all the way to the market. Connor felt pure happiness stirring inside of him. 

_He thinks I’m cute._

 

\-----

 

Connor woke up screaming. 

He gasped for air, drenched in sweat, shivering alone in his cot. The door to his room swung open and two of the remaining elders rushed in.  
“Elder McKinley! What’s wrong?”  
“Is everything okay brother?” 

Connor waved them all off with a weary smile as he tried his best to stop trembling.  
“I’m fine… it’s fine…” he assured shakily.  
“Connor?” Kevin’s concerned voice called from the doorway before he pushed past the other two boys. “What’s wrong? What happened?”  
“Oh, nothing…” Connor tried to assure, but he felt the tears starting to form as his throat tightened.  
“Hey, give him some space fellas. I’ll make sure he’s okay,” Kevin insisted as he slowly herded the other two elders out of the room, closing the door and locking it. Connor gulped, his trembling increasing tenfold. 

Kevin stood at the door for a moment, just looking across the room at Connor.  
“Dream?” he asked.  
“They’re getting w-worse…” Connor replied, voice cracking as he broke down sobbing into his hands. He heard Kevin cross the room and felt a warm arm wrap around his shoulders.  
“Shh… scoot over,” he said softly, inching onto the cot. Connor allowed himself to be pulled against Kevin’s chest as the other man lay down beside him. He hummed an unfamiliar tune into Connor’s ear as he slowly stroked his back, hand coming to rest in the soft hairs at the base of his neck.  
“…and I am here for you…” he sang softly.

It was so light at first that Connor wasn’t quite sure it happened at all. Then it happened again and he felt his entire body shiver. Kevin had pressed a kiss to the top of his head. Connor let out a small whimper, shifting slightly, which resulted in Kevin pressing a kiss against his temple, then his forehead. They were feather light, hesitant, almost like a question. Connor felt himself slowly tilting his head back, lips parted. Another kiss landed on his cheek below his eye. He started to say Kevin’s name, but a final kiss at the corner of his mouth nearly made his heart explode. He felt Kevin’s breath ghost across his face, pausing, waiting for Connor to make the next move.

As if it had a mind of its own, Connor’s hand slowly slid up to cup the back of the other boy’s neck. Ever so slowly, he managed to tip his head back just a little farther and felt warm lips press against his own. He inhaled deeply, gripping the back of Kevin’s neck even harder. He felt the boy’s other arm move to encircle his waist, pressing them closer together. Their lips remained unmoving pressed together, chaste and tentative. Finally, Connor felt Kevin’s lips open the tiniest bit, closing slightly over his bottom lip. He wasn’t sure what sound he made, but it must have been troubling, because Kevin pulled back.  
“Is this okay?” he whispered. Connor was shaking like a leaf.  
“It’s the opposite of okay…” he managed to say. “But please, don’t stop.”

They kissed again, both slightly more confident. Kevin’s hand ran through his hair and down his neck, causing goose bumps to spring up all over his body. Connor had never kissed anyone before, always too afraid of what might happen. If he kissed a girl and liked it, he would be cured, but if he kissed a girl and hated it… He had tried so hard and for so long to convince himself that he was sick, that he would be cured one day, but lying there in the arms of Kevin Price he had never felt more right. Connor never wanted to stop kissing him. Heck, he never wanted to stop touching him. Just running his hand down his neck and across his chest was the most intoxicating thing in the entire world. Kevin was so warm and firm beneath his touch. It was better than anything he could have ever imagined. 

Eventually their kisses began to slow, sleep overcoming both of them. Connor felt warm and safe and completely at peace.  
“Stay?” he whispered against Kevin’s lips.  
“Of course,” came the reply, punctuated with one final kiss. They shifted a bit on the small cot, trying to get comfortable. Kevin pressed himself flush against Connor’s back, arm draped over his side. It was too hot for the blanket, especially with two people, so it lay abandoned at the foot of the bed. Connor took Kevin’s hand in his own and brought it up to his mouth, slowly pressing kisses against each finger. He felt the other boy sigh against the back of his neck and snuggle closer.

Connor lay awake long after Kevin’s breathing had evened out into the steady pattern of sleep. He felt so full of joy and hope, but his mind was equally clouded with doubt and fear. What did this mean for them? What could the future possibly hold for two blasphemers? Kevin mumbled something in his sleep behind him and Connor’s heart swelled with fondness and adoration. _Don’t worry about the future just yet,_ he told himself. _Just enjoy this. Just enjoy now..._

Finally, he felt his eyes begin to grow heavy as sleep tugged at his consciousness. Still grasping Kevin’s hand in his own, he finally drifted off. 

 

He didn’t have any dreams that night.

**Author's Note:**

> So this probably isn't the end of this story! I'm gonna leave it marked as incomplete, just in case. I just love precious Mormon boys being all gay and shit.  
> I also kind of want to develop Kevin a bit more. He strikes me as sort of a homoromantic gray-asexual. So that could be an interesting dynamic there.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! 
> 
> -Topsis


End file.
